


Interview with the Cylon

by daviderl



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daviderl/pseuds/daviderl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anonymous journalist interviews Cylon Number Six in the brig aboard The Galactica (not Caprica Six) for fleet-wide publication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction; Day One; Day Two

**Interview With the Cylon**

**Introduction**

The Cylon I intended to question was the model known as Number Six. This model is a female, just under six feet tall, and weighs right at 125 pounds, which proves how slender she is. This particular model has platinum blond hair, although others have been seen with golden blond and black hair. And she could certainly be called extremely attractive, perhaps even beautiful. Although they don’t have names as we know them – John, Mary, etc., this model (although not this particular individual) has on occasion been called Shelly, Gina, and Caprica-Six, that we know of, so far. And it has recently come to my attention that the various models have taken names to infiltrate and to blend in with humans.

I knew from the outset that getting Number Six to trust me enough to:   
1) not kill me at the first opportunity; and   
2) tell me what I wanted to know, that I would first have to make it clear to her that what I wanted was a simple interview, and not an interrogation.

To gain her trust I had to make sure several conditions had been met. But first I had to clear not only my interview, but the requirements I felt were necessary, with Admiral Adama and President Roslin.   
The first was that there were to be no more interrogations by anyone, for any reason, that might undermine the trust I hoped we could build.   
Second, any and ALL mental and physical abuse had to be stopped immediately!   
Third, her manacles were to be removed.   
Fourth, a decent bed with a clean mattress, pillow, sheets and blankets had to be provided. And   
Fifth, she was to be fed at least twice a day with the same food as the rest of the members of the fleet were given.

After I had the above assurances, I felt it was prudent for me to meet this Number Six face to face to let her know I was interested in interviewing her, at HER convenience. It would not be a demand, and she was free to refuse. And if she did so, those items given to her would not be rescinded.

And one last thing: Due to the fact that many people will take away from this interview that I have some kind of biasness toward Cylons (as opposed to the well-deserved hatred toward them held by many, if not all), President Roslin, Admiral Adama and I felt for my safety’s sake, it would be prudent if I remained anonymous. Therefore in this interview I will be known only as “ANON.”

 

**The Interview**

**Day One** :

 Two armed marine guards entered the holding cell and instructed Number Six to stand in a far corner. After she had complied, two workers brought in the frame of a bed and re-bolted it to the floor using the holes there just for that reason. Next a mattress, pillow, blankets and sheets were brought in. After that, a small table and two chairs were similarly bolted to the floor, all with bolts requiring a special tool to remove them. After the workmen left, I entered the cell and instructed the guards to remove her manacles. There was the neck collar, connected with a chain to wrist manacles, connected with a chain to her ankle manacles. As they were removed, she remained motionless. During this process I watched her – noting the almost unreadable expression on her face, but taking special notice of where her eyes went; what she was looking at. I then ordered the guards to leave, leaving only myself, Number Six, and the food and water I placed on the table.

ANON:           Hello, Number Six. My name is {anonymous}. First, I want you to realize that I know you could kill me before the guards could get back in here to save me. But I hope, instead, you will listen to what I have to say. I suppose you are wondering what is going on. The truth is that I wish to interview you. That is, just a simple Q&A – I ask you questions, and you answer them. I want you to know from the outset that this is NOT an interrogation. I will not be asking the whereabouts of the base ships, nor about their weaponry, nor about their tactics, nor any other military-related questions. And I want you to know that you have the right to refuse to this interview. I don’t expect an answer right away. But I hope will consent to sit down and have a discussion with me.

I turned to leave, then turned back.

ANON:           I will return tomorrow morning with your breakfast. If you are mistreated – beaten, food taken away, or bullied in any way, I expect you to tell me.

I left the cell and watched her for a half hour as she ate and drank, then she made up her bed and lay down on it.

 

            **Day Two:**

The next morning I entered her cell with breakfast and set it on the table. She was lying down. She then sat up on the bed, feet on the floor, but didn’t stand, nor sit at the table.

ANON:  Good morning, Number Six. Did you sleep well?

There was no answer, and her expression was unreadable.

ANON:  Did you think about my proposal?

Again, no response.

ANON:           Very well. Enjoy the breakfast, such as it is. I will return this evening with your supper. I’m sorry, but prisoners are only fed twice a day.

I left her cell, then stayed to watch her eat her breakfast, and then she lay back down on the bed. I returned twelve hours later with her supper, and as with breakfast, I sat it on the table as she sat up from the bed. Apparently she spent most of the day on it.

ANON:           Is the bed comfortable enough for you?

NUMBER 6:  It’s better than the floor.

ANON:           Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. Do you have an answer for me?

NUMBER 6:  Why me? Can’t you get all your answers from your precious Number Eight?

ANON:           I assume you are referring to Sharon Agathon?

NUMBER 6:  Whatever name she’s using here.

ANON:           I suppose I could, but you’re the one I’m interested in. So, how about it?

NUMBER 6:  [takes a breath, pauses] And if I don’t?

ANON:           Well, I’ll be disappointed, of course. But it’s your decision. The bed, the table and chairs won’t be taken away, but since I won’t be around, I can’t assure you that you will be treated – decently.

NUMBER 6:  Is tomorrow morning good?

ANON:           It’s excellent. I’ll see you then.


	2. Day Three, Morning ... Day Three, Evening

 

**Day Three,  
Morning:  **

        As I had done the previous day, I brought Number Six breakfast. I also brought her a clean dress; one that wasn’t covered with dirt, and her blood. I placed it on the table next to the food. She stood up from the bed and picked up the dress, then waited for me to turn around. I was a bit hesitant as I was uncomfortable knowing my back would be to her, and she could easily snap my neck before I knew what was happening. But I turned around, listening to her movements as she took off the dirty, blood-stained dress and put on the clean one. And I also was listening for movement in my direction.

NUMBER 6:  You can turn around now.

ANON:           I hoped it would fit, since it’s the largest size there is.

NUMBER 6:  It’s fine.

        She then sat down and began to eat. I sat opposite her, waiting for her to finish. She didn’t hurry, but she didn’t dawdle either. When she was finished, she slid the plate, cup and spoon over to me. I picked them up and set them next to her dirty dress, which she had folded up, next to the door. I tapped on it and a guard took away those items and another one handed me a pitcher of water and two cups. I went back to the table and sat down. I then bought out a small cassette tape recorder and placed the microphone between us.

ANON:           Do you mind if I record these sessions? I like to make sure my facts are accurate.

NUMBER 6:  No, I don’t mind.

ANON:           Before we get started, I want to reiterate that this is NOT an interrogation. So if there is a subject you’d rather not talk about, I would prefer that you just tell me, rather than lying to me and saying you don’t know.

NUMBER 6:  I can do that.

ANON:           Okay. First off, I was wondering if you had a name. “Number Six” is rather awkward.

NUMBER 6:  I have no name. The only Sixes who are named are the ones who were assigned to live among the humans.

ANON:           Would you mind if I named you? Or would you prefer to name yourself?

NUMBER 6:  [shrugging] I don’t know anything about naming myself. The other Sixes were given their names by…. [a hesitation]

ANON:           That’s all right, you don’t have to tell me who named them. Is there a particular name you like?

NUMBER 6:  I always liked the name “Stella.” It almost sounds like ‘’stellar.’’ And I like looking out at the stars. Something I miss doing in here.

ANON:           Okay. “Stella” it is. So, Stella, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start out talking about the “models.” As I understand it, there are – twelve of you? And I am going on the assumption that each of you were modeled on specific humans. Is that correct?

STELLA:          Is which correct? The number of models? Or who we were modeled after?

ANON:           Well, both, I suppose. Which would you like to answer?

STELLA:          The first – yes. There are twelve of us. I can only assume the second is correct.

ANON:           Now, we have gradually discovered the names of many of them, and even which number they are, except for five of them. I have heard rumors of a “Final Five,” which I suppose are the higher numbered models. But there is an anomaly. You are Number Six, and Sharon is Number Eight. So what about Number Seven? Is there anything you can tell me about that particular model?

            At this point, Stella became very uncomfortable – her breath became faster, and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

ANON:           I see this is a subject you don’t wish to cover. So then I can presume you’d rather not talk about those other, Final Five, models we have no information on?

STELLA:          It is forbidden for us to talk about them.

ANON:           All of you? Forbidden? Forbidden by a specific model? Or is it programmed into your consciousness?

STELLA:          No one speaks of them. It is – like an unwritten law.

ANON:           And what happens if you do?

STELLA:          I’m not sure. Perhaps we might be boxed.

ANON:           Okay, that is a term I haven’t heard before. Just what is being “boxed?”

STELLA:          The consciousness of a model is downloaded into a central computer when it dies. And it is then reinstalled into a new body. But in certain extreme cases, the entire line can be boxed, and that particular model is no long active.

ANON:           Interesting. So every time one of you is resurrected, you have all the memories of all of the models?

STELLA:          No, we only have the memories we had before we died. But if we wanted to, we could access memories of others of our model. Then we would have two sets of memories.

ANON:           I see. Very interesting. Do you think Number Seven could have been boxed?

            Again, Stella became uncomfortable, and uncommunicative.

ANON:           Well, I’ll tell you what. Rather than continue this now, how about if we take a break, and I’ll return when I bring your supper?

STELLA:          Whatever you want.

ANON:           Alright, then. I will see you this evening.

 

            **Day Three,  
            Evening**

            When Stella heard me come into her cell, she got up off the bed and sat in her chair. As she ate her supper, I brought in the pitcher of water and a cup for myself. And I set up the tape recorder. After she ate I took her plate and spoon back to the door of the cell.

ANON:           So how was your day?

STELLA:          Boring.

ANON:           Well maybe I can have a book or two brought in.

STELLA:          Before we start, can I ask you something?

            I turned on the recorder before I answered.

ANON:           What is it?

STELLA:          Are your questions coming from you cold, or have you been getting information from others? You seem to know more than you should know. Things that Adama or Roslin wouldn’t want to be public knowledge.

ANON:           From others, such as….

STELLA:          Gaius Baltar, or Number Eight?

ANON:           I have talked to them. But I don’t know how much I trust what Baltar tells me. Some of his information is what I have asked you. It’s hard for me to believe, but I trust you more than I do him. And I have asked Sharon things. But she is not very forthcoming. It’s like she doesn’t want to admit to being a Cylon.

STELLA:          She wants to be human. She thinks that if she doesn’t think about it, she will be human.

ANON:           Well, both Sharons – Boomer and Athena, did fall in love with humans. And according to Baltar, Caprica-Six was in love with him.

STELLA:          It never should have happened. Cylons have no business forming romantic relationships with humans. Even when … undercover.

ANON:           So what about Athena, Number Eight, being impregnated by Karl Agathon?

            For a long time Stella was silent, it was obvious she had opinions about this. But when she finally spoke --

STELLA:          I have nothing to say about that.

ANON:           Alright. We’ll table that discussion, for now. But since you brought it up – what about romantic relationships between Cylons? As I understand it, there are three female and four male models, discounting the unknown Five. Have any of you ever fallen in love?

STELLA:          Not to my knowledge. Maybe our programming prevents it. But we do have sexual feelings, so sex between different models isn’t unheard of. I haven’t, personally, had sex with another Cylon.

ANON:           Have you ever had sex with a human?

            Another long hesitation.

STELLA:          I have. But I won’t say who.

ANON:           What about female and female Cylons, or male and male?

STELLA:          Not to my knowledge.

ANON:           Not even between different models?   

STELLA:          As I said – not to my knowledge.

ANON:           Okay. Well, it is getting late. And I have many notes to transcribe, so I think we will call it a day. I will ask the admiral about letting you have something to read. Do you have any favorite books?

STELLA:          I don’t know any book titles. I suppose anything will be fine, or nothing at all.

ANON:           I’ll see what I can do. So until tomorrow morning, goodnight. Sleep well.

            Stella drank a cup of water then lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes. For all I knew, she immediately fell asleep. 


	3. Day Four, Morning ... Day Four, Evening

 

**Day Four,  
            Morning**

            When I brought Stella her breakfast, I noticed she did have a book, but she stopped reading it when I came in. She closed it and put it on the bed. While Stella ate, I set up the recorder, then waited until she finished.

ANON:           I see someone did bring you something to read. May I see it?

            Stella got up from the table, went to the bed and brought it to me.

ANON:           “A History of the Art of Brewing, and Breweries of Virgon.” A thousand pages! I cannot believe someone actually saved something like this.

[For those of you who don’t much about Virgon **:** Although known for its vast forests, its main export was                 Virgon Brew, a high end, and I am told, a delicious beer. The survivors have continued to practice this art, providing beer and other alcoholic beverages to the fleet, and becoming “wealthy” in the process.]

STELLA:          Perhaps it was the only thing someone had left to remind them of their home.

ANON:           You’re probably right.  Okay, today I’d like to cover a different subject. But first, do you hate me?

STELLA:          What?

ANON:           Do you hate me. It’s a simple question – yes or no?

STELLA:          No, I don’t hate you. You have been uncommonly kind to me.

ANON:           Do you hate humanity, you know – humans?

STELLA:          No, I can’t say that I do.

ANON:           So what about the other Sixes? Or other models?

STELLA:          I can’t say for sure, but for the most part, I would think maybe some do, and some don’t.

ANON:           I see. So, if there isn’t a solid consensus about hating us, why are you trying to exterminate us? Why not just let us live as we were doing?

STELLA:          I’m not sure if I can answer that.

ANON:           Okay, a little history from our point of view: We humans created the Cylons as a labor force. They rebelled. We had a war that lasted twelve years, then an armistice was signed. And for forty years we never heard from you. Then all of a sudden, as we were to discover, you evolved from mechanical to biological beings, infiltrated the twelve colonies, and then nuked the planets in an attempt to completely exterminate us.  
See, I don’t understand that. There must be thousands of planets you could have colonized. But, instead, you came back. Obviously, you didn’t want the colonial worlds since you rendered them unlivable for thousands of years. So – why?

            Stella didn’t speak for a long time. And I couldn’t tell if she really didn’t know, or if she was afraid of revealing secrets.

STELLA:          It was decided the humans had to be eliminated.

ANON:           Who decided? I had the impression all the models got an equal vote. So, did more of you vote to wipe us out than those who voted not to?

STELLA:          Something like that, I suppose.

ANON:           So why didn’t the ones voting not to kill us just refuse to go to war?

STELLA:          When Admiral Adama gives his marines or pilots an order, do they refuse?

ANON:           Well, you do have a point. But that brings me to the conclusion that there is one model who gives orders to – controls, all of the others. Is that correct?

STELLA:          I – I’d rather not say.

ANON:           Okay, but by refusing to answer, it makes your answer seem to be ‘yes.’ It’s like you’re hiding some bit of information you don’t want us to know about.

STELLA:          I still don’t want to answer.

ANON:           Very well. I told you that you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to. So, I think we will end this session now. If I haven’t said it before, I do appreciate your candor. I’ll try to get you something a bit more interesting to read. So I will see you this evening.

            After I left the cell, Stella lay back down on the bed and began reading.

 

**Day Four  
            Evening**

            When I arrived, Stella was sitting on the edge of the bed, when I put her food on the table, she sat down and began to eat. She was acting rather odd, or rather not at all – no expression, no greeting. After I removed the plate and turned on the recorder she spoke.

STELLA:          I’ve been thinking about what we talked about this morning, and I have a question for you.

ANON:           Okay, what is it?

STELLA:          Do you hate me?

ANON:           No, not at all. In fact, I rather like you. And I think if our situation was different, I might even have asked you out.

STELLA:          Do you hate other Sixes? Or Eights? Or – Cylons in general?

ANON:           I don’t hate you, any of you. I _do_ hate what you have done, wanted to do. Maybe if I tried, I could muster up something akin to hate for the ones who ordered the destruction of all mankind. And since you brought up the subject – something I hadn’t intended to pursue, but you never did say why the order was given to wipe us out.

STELLA:          [a long pause]  After the one true God created humans, you became sinful. You rejected God, and the love he has for you. Instead, you invented the Lords of Kobol – false gods to worship. So God commanded that you create us, the Cylons, to be a more perfect being, and to take the place of humanity. So it was only natural that humans had to be eliminated in order for us to evolve.

ANON:           Do all Cylons believe this?

STELLA:          As far as I know. Do all humans worship the Lords of Kobol?

ANON:           Most do. Some take it to extremes. Others do not believe at all. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some monotheistic believers.

            There was a pause while I inserted another tape in the recorder. Stella asked for water, which I had forgotten to bring. I got a pitcher from a guard.

ANON:           Well, I think I know just about all I need to about your religious beliefs, so, I’d like to change the subject. [I cleared my throat, took a drink of water and checked that the recorder was on.] So, do all of you have the same personality – all the Sixes, all the Eights, the Fours, Fives?

STELLA:          Yes and no. I think we might have in the beginning, but just like identical twins, as we go through our lives, the things we see and do, the interactions, color our personalities. And of course, the ones who visited the colonial worlds, then died, and then were resurrected, are much different from the ones who remained on the base ships.

ANON:           I see, interesting. [I took another swallow of water.] And changing the subject again. When Cylons aren’t plotting to wipe out humanity, what do you do?

STELLA:          I don’t know what you mean.

ANON:           The other Cylons, the ones we aren’t currently battling against – do they have hobbies? Do they play Pyramid? Is there a league? What about weekly poker games?

            There was a very long pause. I have to admit I am getting rather good at reading Stella’s face – her expressions, her eyes, her mouth, and so on. So I could tell there was something going on she didn’t really want me to know. So I was surprised when, instead of telling she _didn’t_ know, or didn’t want to answer, she did.

STELLA:          Mostly, I think they are exploring the worlds you left behind. Probably the ones with the more industrialized or developed cities such as Caprica, Picon, Canceron, Leonis, and others.

ANON:           I don’t understand, the colonies were bombed with nuclear weapons, how can anyone, even Cylons, visit those worlds, much less explore them?

            Again, there was a pause, but not quite as long as the first.

STELLA:          Because we, as you humans are so quick to remind us, are machines. Radiation doesn’t affect us as it does you. Of course, there are places that are so highly irradiated that even the Centurions can’t tolerate.

            Another pause, but this time it was I who had nothing to say; I was dumbstruck. And I knew this was something that Admiral Adama might want to know about; should know about.

STELLA:          You are leaving now?

ANON:           Yeah, I think I am. I realize this session has been shorter than usual, but I do have other things I need to attend to.

STELLA:          Before you go, I have a … request.

ANON:           Of course, what is it?

            This time a very long pause, and a troubled look on Stella’s face.

STELLA:          I have been cooperative, haven’t I?

ANON:           Yes, very cooperative. I’ve been most satisfied with the results of this interview.

STELLA:          At the beginning, before we started, you told me that if I didn’t cooperate that you couldn’t guarantee that my safety could be assured.

ANON:           I seem to recall saying something like that.

STELLA:          And when this is finally over and you no longer come every day to ask your questions, then once again I will be at the mercy of the guards. Is that a correct assessment?

ANON:           Yes, I’m afraid it is.

STELLA:          I have a solution, but now I will need _your_ cooperation.

ANON:           I’m listening.

STELLA:          I believe that only way for me not to be beaten at the whim of whoever, is if I were … pregnant.

            Again, I was speechless. This was the last thing I expected. I thought maybe she would ask if I would continue to visit her. Or arrange for someone else. When I finally found my voice, I said,

ANON:                       So, you want me and you – to –

STELLA:          Yes I want us to have sex. If you continue to come twice a day, and we copulate with each visit, the odds that I am impregnated should be good.

            At this point I got up and began to pace. I really didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, despite being a Cylon, she WAS a beautiful woman, and my feelings for her had grown more than I realized. Plus, it had been too long since I had been with a woman. But I knew if Admiral Adama or President Roslin found out I would be in serious trouble – maybe; or maybe not. While pacing, I passed by her chair and she grabbed my hand with both of hers. Her eyes were filled with desperate pleading. This was the first time I had ever seen such an emotion from her.

STELLA:          Please. Can’t you do this – for me? It doesn’t have to be a big production. We don’t have to take our clothes off. I’ll just lay down and pull up my dress, and you do what you do, and then it will be over, until the next time?

ANON:           I must be frakkin’ crazy. But alright. I’ll do it.

            As Stella and I looked at each other, things were suddenly very awkward. Neither seemed to know what to do next. Then she got up from the chair, lay down on the bed and as promised, pulled her dress high enough that her genitals were exposed (she wasn’t wearing any underwear). I walked to the foot of her bed and I began to unbuckle my belt, unzipped my pants, unsnapped them at the waist, and pulled them to my knees. I could tell we were both embarrassed, looking at each other like that. I crawled over the foot of the bed until I was in position then Stella used one hand and guided me into her, and we began.  
            And it was pretty much a “Slam, Bam, Thank you, Ma’am” kind of thing, and a few minutes later it was over. I think we both were trying not to let the passion show, but we both let a few moans and groans escape, and there was panting. Apparently, it had been some time for her as well. A few minutes later I got up off her, pulled up my pants, rezipped, rebuckled, and began to gather up my things. Stella pulled her dress back down to her knees. As I was leaving, she softly asked if I was coming back the next morning. I nodded yes and left without looking back at her.


	4. Day Five to Day Ten ... Mornings and Evenings

 

**Day Five to Day Ten  
Mornings and Evenings**

            The next morning I was about fifteen minutes late. I wasn’t trying to make Stella think I wasn’t coming, but I was still feeling a bit anxious about the sex we’d had the evening before. When I entered her cell, I could see the worry in her face, but it evaporated when she saw me with her breakfast and my recorder. She already was sitting at the table. I put the food on it, she started eating right away. I fumbled with setting up the recorder even though I had all the material I needed. We made the small talk we always did before the interviews started. I asked how she slept, she asked me. I asked about the book she was reading for the second time; nothing interview-worthy.  
            After she had finished eating, we sat across the table, just looking at each other. Finally she said that maybe we should get on with it, but I thought we should wait, not rush things, since I knew as soon as we had finished I would be leaving, and I didn’t want it to seem like I came in and then just left so soon. But after a few minutes of just sitting there, Stella lay back down on the bed and again raised her dress up above her hips, and I didn’t know what else to do but to join her.  
            Things were much the same as the first time, except neither of us were too embarrassed to hold back  -- there was more overt moaning, groaning and panting, but still mostly “clinical.” Then an odd thing, if that is the correct way to put it, happened right after it was over. Of course we were face to face, and I don’t know if it was me or her, but one of us kissed the other on the mouth, and it was like a dam burst. The passion we both were holding in, exploded, and for several minutes we were kissing like newlyweds. And then we had sex again (I was still inside her). I had never done it twice in such a short time.  
            After the brief rest period I slowly got up from her and got dressed. Again as I was leaving, she asked if I would be back that evening. I replied of course, picked up my recorder and left.

            That evening when I arrived I noticed a subtle change – the four top buttons of her dress were unfastened, giving me a slight glimpse of her cleavage. We made small talk, she ate and then she stood up next to the bed facing me, and one by one she unbuttoned her dress, then opened it, allowing me to see all of her. She just stood there until I went to her, and kissed her. As I did, she unbuttoned my shirt and unfastened my pants. Then we lay down on her bed, kissed each other passionately, then we – no, I _won’t_ say we made love – we had sex – fiery, intense sex. And of course, with them exposed, I did fondle and kiss her breasts. And there was no holding back on the sounds we were making. And twice, in the heat of passion, I almost told her I loved her; almost, but I caught myself in time. When it was over, we both dozed for a while, then I had to go. Again, she asked if I would return the next morning; I assured her I would.

            The next morning I was a few minutes early. After she had eaten breakfast I brought out a gift for her – an orange colored citrus fruit I had been saving, hoarding, for myself. And my throat constricted when I saw how much her face lit up when she saw it – was I falling in love with this Cylon woman? It took only seconds for her to peel it and to put one juicy section into her mouth, and then a second one. Then she offered me one, and put it into my mouth. She ate another section, then gave me one, alternating.  
            When it was gone, she leaned across the table, pulled me to her by my shirt and we shared a sticky, citrus-tasting kiss, licking the juice from each other’s lips and chin. It didn’t take us long to shed our clothes and find ourselves on her bed making … having sex! Again we dozed, then I had to go. I was afraid if I stayed too much longer than I had been in the past, it would rouse too much suspicion.

This went on for the next few days. Once I asked if she wanted to be on top, but she said the chances were greater that she would become pregnant if she stayed horizontal rather than vertical.

I soon realized that every time I visited I found it harder to leave her.

            I knew things couldn’t go on like this forever, but for some reason I was surprised when, on the morning of the tenth day, the guard told me Admiral Adama wanted to see me, and two guards escorted me to his quarters. I’m sure it goes without saying that I was soundly raked over the coals, to use an old expression. He asked me what in the gods name I thought I was doing. He brought up the fact that he had given me his permission at the behest of President Roslin, even though he was against it. On and on. And I had no real defense. The gist of it was that my visits to the Six were at an end and I was going back to [fleet ship name omitted] just as soon as the next Raptor was available. I told him I understood, but asked if I could at least tell Stella I was leaving, and say goodbye. After several hostile snorts, he agreed, but I was to stay outside her cell.

            When I arrived back at the brig, and Stella’s cell, I could see the table and chair had been removed, as well as her sheets and pillowcase. They only left her the bed, mattress, pillow and one blanket. When she saw me, she smiled, but when I picked up the communication phone rather than enter her cell, her face dropped. She went to the one on her side of the bars and put it to her ear. I explained that I was going to have to leave Galactica, and why. She said when the guards took almost everything, she had a bad feeling about it. I asked if she was pregnant, but she said it would still be a week, or longer, before she would know. Then we ran out of something to say. I reluctantly told her it was time. She asked if I thought I would be back; I said I doubted it. I wished her well, but before I hung up she said, “I want you to know, if it had been up to me, I would have not attacked the colonies. I would have let them live in peace, and I would have had us go half way across the galaxy, so far away none of us could ever find their way back.” I told her I believed her.

  
My final words were that I cared for her and would miss her, and I if there was any way, I would try to come back. I then walked away without looking back.


	5. A Few Final Thoughts

 

**A Few Final Thoughts**

I am sure there are those of you who have read this and believe that I was lied to, and played by Stella the entire time. And probably there are those who objected to me calling her Stella rather than as Prisoner Cylon #6, or some other degrading label. Your thoughts and objections are noted.

        Did she lie to me?  
 When I began the interview I half way expected her to lie, to refuse to talk, to become sarcastic, and/or to threaten my safety. But none of that happened. Perhaps it was because she was bored, or because she just wanted decent food and a bed, rather than the slop they were feeding her and only the steel floor to sleep on. But regardless of the reason, I think, for the most part, she told me the truth as she knew it. There are things she didn’t want to talk about. And I can’t fault her for that. I told her it wasn’t an interrogation, so I felt she had the right to refuse to tell me anything she didn’t want to.

        Was I falling in love with her?  
I honestly don’t know. Yes, I certainly did, still do, have feelings for her. I enjoyed her company. She was very likeable, and sometimes she made me laugh (I know, there was nothing humorous in the interview text, but I’m referring to our small talk before, and eventually after, the Q&A). Of course there are those who will say she was programmed to be so to make it easier to blend in and spy on humans, and maybe you are right. But I can honestly say there was nothing said during our pillow talk that compromised either of our respective “sides” (not that I knew any military secrets anyway).

As I expected, both President Roslin and Admiral Adama read over the transcript before they would allow it to go to print. But what surprised me was nothing was redacted – everything I wrote and handed to them was left intact. But there was a lengthy not-so-friendly Q&A I had to go through about the things said that I hadn't recorded ( they did listen to the raw recordings as well as reading the transcripts).

And in case you were wondering, these “Final Thoughts” were written in front of Colonel Tigh (so I am assuming he, too, read the transcript) before they were turned over to the printer. He didn’t say anything, but from the look on his face, he was rather disgusted with me. And I have no doubts there are many who feel as he does.

So be it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to be as accurate as I could with the information in this story. Most of it came from the website  
>  http://en.battlestarwiki.org/wiki/Portal:Battlestar_Galactica_(RDM)
> 
> A VERY good site to visit for all things Galactica (the original series, Galactica 80, the one this story is based on, Caprica, and Blood and Chrome).


End file.
